


Yet He Had No Words To Utter

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Evil Wilbur Soot, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I didn't edit this either, I don't ship real people, Insane Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Ouch, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Wilbur Soot, Triggers, i wrote this at like 2:30 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He sat on the log, his eyes closed with self-hatred something he was oh-so familiar with in life. Jschlatt pulled it from his teeth and held it up to the endless humid air, opening one chocolate eye to watch the dancing and doodling of his cigarette’s smoke. Even out of office to relax he still felt the urge to command orders, or check in on the people of Manburg that dwelled this late in the evening. Softly grunting he pressed his cigarette into the semi-moist wood, drying it out almost immediately before flicking it from his grasp. Watching the remaining orange sizzle away (gratefully not causing any fires) Schlatt grabbed his suit jacket before turning around only to be met with cold, calculating eyes.A pair of mocha eyes to be exact - as he let out a sigh of irritation scrunching up his nose at the sight of his political rival, the one he had banished when given the chance along with that annoying as shit teen. Schlatt noticed how blank they were but did not say a word out loud instead choosing the silence of within. “My dear boy Schlatt - what are you doing so close to Pogtopia territory? You know the rules of this little game President,” Wilbur growled, leaning down to reach the other male’s height.
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 149
Collections: Anonymous





	Yet He Had No Words To Utter

If you listen to the earth a message may play for you, forbidding you to step foot on the lengthy grass and will be met with unholy punishment if these actions arise. Though it’s melody is symbolic, the toll to be forigen on any human body, especially those who have sinned (whether previously or current). Even if you were a mighty god your fate would slip through the gateways of hell, betting your luck to be swallowed whole if the earth felt you. One man of power, of complete drive will be thrown off course - his screams to be muted by the rain, oh the blistering rain. In particular a man sitting on a log, his back slouched from discomfort and a suit jacket resting on the other side of his legs while teeth held a cigarette, the smoke going up, up, up into the already cloudy sky.

He sat on the log, his eyes closed with self-hatred something he was oh-so familiar with in life. Jschlatt pulled it from his teeth and held it up to the endless humid air, opening one chocolate eye to watch the dancing and doodling of his cigarette’s smoke. Even out of office to relax he still felt the urge to command orders, or check in on the people of Manburg that dwelled this late in the evening. Softly grunting he pressed his cigarette into the semi-moist wood, drying it out almost immediately before flicking it from his grasp. Watching the remaining orange sizzle away (gratefully not causing any fires) Schlatt grabbed his suit jacket before turning around only to be met with cold, calculating eyes.

A pair of mocha eyes to be exact - as he let out a sigh of irritation scrunching up his nose at the sight of his political rival, the one he had banished when given the chance along with that annoying as shit teen. Schlatt noticed how blank they were but did not say a word out loud instead choosing the silence of within. “My dear boy Schlatt - what are you doing so close to Pogtopia territory? You know the rules of this little game President,” Wilbur growled, leaning down to reach the other male’s height, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

When was he ever going to stop with the sarcastic-ass nickname? And give people personal space, geez. Wilbur only sunk lower, closer to Schlatt’s ear with an eerie chuckle hitting right on his skin making him frown. “What do you want Soot? I don’t have all day, you creepy fuck,” He commented to the accented man, like an almost formed clockwork.

Waves of chilliness dipped down the back of Schlatt when cold, very cold hands slithered underneath his shirt and gripped his hips. Jumping back the hybrid attempted to wriggle away only to feel one hand pull away, where he watched it dipping into the coat pocket of Wilbur’s overly thick jacket. Something small, something metal appeared in the taller man’s hand - something Schlatt had recognized quickly. Bright orange hues lit up in front of him edging closer to his pile of messy, thick hair.

Pleas of despair hung loosely on his tongue, as if they were nailed there, but he fought the urge to go down, to let his pride sink with him like a battleship he had heard of during highschool history. Rather with leftover strength he gripped tightly to Wilbur’s wrist and flicked it out, watching the lighter drop to the moist grass and a thunk accompanying it. No intense forest fire filled his chocolate eyes, no scenes of overbearing wickedness clung to his tanned skin, only the prick of what seemed to be tacs and needles in his chest. If he would have just ran he would have made it, long enough to apologize to Quackity, to Tubbo, hell even Fundy - who is still a spy in his eyes.

Gears began to work, not enough to keep his legs moving, only the occasional glance at the still-shocked Wilbur before slowly returning back to his own feet. As if a freight train had collided heavily into his thoughts and motor skills he took the chance to run. By whatever deity he had first thought of was the one he took to praying to in that time frame as his legs carried him anywhere but there, far away from there. No looking back for Schlatt now.

Wilbur lifted his head from the now broken lighter taking in account how the ram hybrid disappeared so suddenly, his footsteps still heavy sounding from a distance. Fine if that was the game Schlatt wanted to play at (oh so mindlessly, to be quite truthful) he would become the prey this round. And so the hunt began, Wilbur giving chase to the now frightened president, his height giving him an advantage this go-around. Within mere minutes hands grappled into the ram’s hair pulling him back into a clutch, the other man’s body swinging wildly in hopeful escape, arms of the taller wrapping around his chest and throat tightly. Screams echoed frantically from the victim only to be muffled by a large hand, the one that was around his throat.

“Don’t start getting scared now  _ big guy _ ,” - Drips of venom twisted angrily this time at the tease, more so directed toward the nickname coughed from the depths of the devil himself. “Why the fun is just starting!”

Panic rose higher as he saw the grass and dirt of the outside fade into harsh gray; not metal, rather a large stone cave with frantic handwriting scribbled in various colors. Schlatt could barely make out the sloppy looking words written, more focused on prying himself free from this situation - away from this lunatic, back to his office. He groaned when his skull reverberated off the stone, not once, not twice but three times to keep him still, to learn his pathetic place. As soon as the hand flew away from his mouth Schlatt began to swear, forcing himself to make a point on how he should be treated with respect not toyed around like a ragdoll. “Get your filthy hands off me jackass! You’re going to be so dead when I leave!”

Laughter fell from Wilbur’s thistle tongue, bouncing off the walls of the cave. Sly eyes closing in brief amusement, opening back up almost too soon for Schlatt’s own good, for his own safety. Those eyes looked the shorter up and down - a lick of his lips making Schlatt tense up on the spot. “What do you mean when  _ you  _ leave? It’ll just be me walking out of here, you wouldn’t even get the chance to stand once I’m through with you. Face it Schlatt there’s nowhere for you to run, for you to go - so why even fight it?”

Of course he had to fight out of this ordeal, this arrangement he had never planned to happen nor wanted in the first place. Sinking his jaw into Wilbur’s fist made the brunette scream, shaking his arm wildly to free himself of sharp teeth embedding deep in the skin. Blood welled from the wound dripping to the rocky floor of the cave where he stomped his boot down, unraveling his other arm from the hold and punching Schlatt straight in the jaw. Both men stumbled a little, Wilbur grumbling on how he would address the wound he had garnered later, while Schlatt’s vision went in and out of focus as he clutched at the spot where his rival had swung harshly. Neither one spoke, only listening to the heavy breathing inside this miniature, well-worn space of hard solitude. “So..,” More psychotic laughter filled the remaining gaps - as did a tall, pale body. “..What’s it going to be, huh? The easy way or the hard way?”

“..It doesn’t have to come down to this, Soot,”

“Oh but it does Jschlatt, you see I once was filling this endless dread of presidency nicely, if I do say so myself,” - Schlatt snorted at the thought, rolling his eyes. “Then you had to come along, holding out your little coin - playing at your little cons. I had you all figured out the moment I laid eyes on you, you're nothing but a man who acts as if the world should spin around his head. Taking hopes and dreams like a meteorite plummeting down from the gravitational pull of earth. I’m not going to let this happen anymore Schlatt, you want to know why?”

“Not exactly bitch,” He retorted, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice.

“Because I should be president right now, I should be up on that podium banishing you from L’Manburg, I SHOULD BE ABLE TO SEE MY OWN SON!” Wilbur punches the stone beside Schlatt’s head in a fit of resentment. “Since I can’t though, I guess my next best option is using you,”

Chapped lips crashed into soft ones, arms pulling the smaller closer to his body, closer to the feeling of a broken mind and a battered body; hand fishing to the silver buttons on the ram hybrid’s pants each one harder to grip and pop off due to the abnormal amount of sweat seeping out of the pores. Hollers rolled off Schlatt’s tongue only to be muffled by a savory taste, which was now rubbing along every bump over his mouth, practically trying to swallow his remaining shards of soul whole. Ragged breaths, one string of saliva, shirts off and Schlatt’s pants halfway discarded made Wilbur admire the morsale underneath his greedy stare - oh he was ready to consume this brilliant piece in mere seconds.

From a flipped perspective Schlatt wanted nothing more than to choke Wilbur to death, hear him suffocating from lack of oxygen (wheezing for mercy--letting out his final words in pained cries), as far as to say twisting his neck and hearing the bone dislocate - breaking in several places. Fulfilling those fantasies now a top-tier on his unknowing bucket list. He shuddered as ruthless claws scraped down his back, now in his boxers massaging his semi-hard cock at a slow pace.  _ Huh?! _

His eyes blew open, his mouth hung from the madness of the situation - he had never felt so violated in his life. Schlatt tried to fight back the hushed whimpers swimming to the surface, swinging his body in another awful attempt at mandatory escape, thoughtless bliss of sitting inside the White House, hitting some blunts and consuming some cheap booze. Wilbur’s hand began pumping at a rough rhythm, chuckling softly at the noises of protest that even dared to make an escape. In the pit of his stomach Schlatt could feel a knot becoming larger by the second, his legs trembled as Wilbur nipped harshly on the open space of Schlatt’s neck, unmarked territory for a simplistic beast.

One pathetic moan, along with his skull back in the confinements of the wall confirmed how weak a person could truly be as Schlatt’s hips bucked up in pleasure. Cum spurted from his dick into his boxers, slight betrayal evident on his face from the way his body responded to the situation that made bile rise in his throat. Densely he swallowed it back down, resorting to if he closed his eyes none of  **_this_ ** would be occurring in the moment. Pale hand pulled out of his boxers and straight down Wilbur’s mouth, the taller licking the cum off his dirty fingers, finally ‘tsk’ing repeatedly. “As soon as you take your dumb, scrawny-looking-ass back to that office I want you to admire my handiwork. Ask yourself everyday why you’re such a sex-aadicted whore whom has no limitations to the imagination,”

“You… you can’t fucking make me… dickhead,”

Thoughts trampled each other in a fight to see which got to the top first, Wilbur shaking his head before reaching down to unbutton his own pair of jeans. “We’ll see about that in just a couple of minutes, sweetheart~”

Clothes landed on the stone beside them, thunks echoing to make Jschlatt wince in absolute terror. Tears began pricking at the corners of his eyes. Blood rushed to his dick again, beads of sweat rolling down his face, his body shaking from the cold due to lack of covering. Wilbur sunk down to his knees before opening his mouth and taking the ram hybrid in - starting at the base of his enemy’s cock gradually increasing length. This power, this feeling of raw unlimited actions with no consequences essentially broke the barrier of his already high pride. After all this time he gets to chase his lustful desires, listening to the grunts and groans elevating him from his rusted throne. Hands dug through his tangly, jungled hair, clawing away for earnest balance.

Nose deep he now found himself in as Schlatt kept slamming Wilbur even further, not bothering him in the slightest, hollowing out his cheeks wrapping his pink muscle solely on the member. Twitches touched the back of his throat, high-pitched moans edging further towards screams as another load shot down, quicker he spectated. Back on his feet, his original position no less, choking down the remaining cum with a deviant smirk, sadism seeping from open wounds and drenched pours. Third time’s a charm they say.

“Stop it..., stop it..,” Slurred words, Schlatt was high on the fumes of lust and regret. Regretting every ruthless, tremoring word he drunkenly abused his vice-president with. Mist hanged his fervent brain for the misdeeds he had committed, plaguing his weak bones gradually as Wilbur flipped him over by the hips, hot breath nimble on his shoulder blade. He could barely hear the sound of spit landing in someone’s palm multiple times, the scattered hissing of a person behind him. Schlatt couldn’t tell anyone what happened after his second orgasm, not even himself - it hurt too much to think about.

Positioning himself along the ram hybrid Wilbur sank his lubricated dick inside, saliva still fresh on his hands from rubbing it up and down his length. Straddling thin hips brought even more pleasure to the Brit, pulling back out carefully before slamming more forcefully in Schlatt’s tight hole. Crimson coated fingernails embedded deeper, blood seeping out from the shorter’s hips as he gripped tighter -- moaning heavily as he listened to skin slapping against skin. “Ooh.. ooh Schlatt… yo- you feel so good! Ahh~!” Hormonal growls creeped on Schlatt’s well-exposed shoulder blade. Predatorial teeth sank in a moment later to drown the sexual noises.

  
Wilbur’s thrusting diminished to a limited movement, teeth sinking deeper as white graced the insides of Schlatt; watching the body slide down to the floor once he pulled out. Articles of clothing reappeared piece by piece on Wilbur, chuckling at the shaking figure in front of his feet, those chocolate eyes so hollow and far away from the world. “Be smart, take my word and give up your reign as president,” - With that he departed, leaving a crying Jschlatt to the dark, abysmal cave.  Arms wrapped close to a withering mind, a body that feels so close to tearing at the seems longing to be clean again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the massacred ending, I felt no longer an attachment to this fic as I basically ran out of brain to pour on this. I hope you guys like it, and yes I understand the ccs are uncomfortable with this kind of content and I won't be making any other fics like this. That being said do not under any circumstances post this anywhere else, please and thank you


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